My Brother, the Hero: Version 2-point-0h
by FalconLux
Summary: AU - It's hard when your brother's the Boy-Who-Lived. This is the story of the "other brother", and how he ended up wearing this nifty skull mask! - Twin!Harry Darkish!Sarcastic!Slytherin!Harry – No Child Abuse! – This will be Harry/Voldemort or Voldemort/Harry *shrugs*, but not for quite a while.
1. The Potter Family

****Disclaimer:** **I don't own Harry Potter, characters, universe, franchise, etc. I am not J. K. Rowling. I don't make any money from this. No copyright or trademark infringement intended.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong> This is the expanded version of my oneshot "My Brother, the Hero". I have no posting schedule for this fic and updates will be sporadic, but I wanted to start posting it as I promised that I would. I'm not sure how long this will end up, but the basic idea is to go through enough key scenes throughout Harry's life to demonstrate why he is the way that he is. So I won't be detailing every single aspect of Harry's life but the scenes I do write should provide enough information to connect them._

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><p><strong>Brief Synopsis of Backstory:<strong> The prophecy was delivered as in canon, but Lily had twin sons. On Halloween 1981, James and Lily left for a meeting with Dumbledore and left Peter to babysit. He invited Voldemort over. No one witnessed what he did in that room, but Peter went inside after the explosion to find his lord gone, wand on the floor, Ethan screaming and Harry awake and quiet. He took the wand and fled. Since it was Ethan who was scarred that night, Dumbledore decided that Voldemort had "marked him as his equal" and extrapolated the whole blocking the killing curse scenario based on magical residue.

**Warnings:** Darkish!Intelligent!Slytherin!Harry, Manipulative!Dumbledore (shocker, I know), Voldemort is going to be a little more sane and less vindictive than his canon portrayal. I don't think he's given enough credit for deviousness. Anywho, there will be **character death**! Scary, right? Don't worry, it's not Harry. And who really cares about the rest of them? Considering some of what happened in canon, I think it's reasonable for some people to die here and there. Oh, and lots of bashing of almost everyone!

**Pairings:** Harry/Voldie. Also James/Lily and Lucius/Narcissa, but we're not focusing on that. If I decide on additional side pairings, I'll announce them at that time.

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><p><strong>My Brother, the Hero<strong>

**.:1:.**

**The Potter Family**

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><p><strong>15 June 1991 – Potter Manor<strong>

"Hey, Mum! There's a couple owls here!" Ethan's voice came from the courtyard below. "I don't recognize…" a beat of silence and then, "THEY CAME! MUM! DAD! THEY CAME! THEY'RE HERE!"

I sighed and noted my page before closing my book. I knew that I wouldn't get any more reading done now. Not when Ethan was screaming in that tone of voice. That tone meant that he'd not be appeased until he'd garnered the rapt attention of the entire house. That was unfortunate. I'd hoped to finish that book before dinner. Hogwarts was only six weeks away now, and the reading list I'd challenged myself to finish before then was still far from complete.

"What are you screaming about, Ethan?" Mum laughed as she entered the courtyard.

"The letters! They're here!" he enthused.

I cast a regretful glance at my book, then made my way out of my third story bedroom and down to the ground floor. By the time I got there, Dad had arrived and Ethan already had his letter open with each of our parents standing over his shoulders.

I brushed off the momentary flare of jealousy as they failed to notice my arrival. This meant a lot more to Ethan than it did to me, and it was hardly their fault that I moved quietly. I let them have their moment as I relieved the other owl of the second letter.

It was, completely unsurprisingly, my acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Ethan had been going on about this pretty much nonstop since Christmas. He always did that. I kind of thought being excited and anticipatory was half the fun for him. Personally, I didn't see the point. Really, they were letters. It wasn't as though there'd ever been any question as to us being accepted. Ethan had defeated Voldemort as a baby for Godric's sake. I obviously hadn't done anything like that, but my first accidental magic had started right after that.

Yeah, I didn't see why it was exciting to get these letters, but I wasn't about to ruin Ethan's moment. I smiled as I watched Ethan going on and _on _about how awesome Hogwarts would be. Mum glanced up and caught my eye. She gave me a warm smile and a quick wink before Ethan's enthusiasm reclaimed her attention.

I just shook my head fondly and padded silently back inside. I might have time to finish my book after all.

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><p><strong>17 June 1991 – Diagon Alley<strong>

"Harry! Honey, it's time to go!" Mum shouted up the stairs.

I smirked as I gently closed my book and slipped off the window seat where I'd been partially concealed behind the curtain for the last half hour while Mum, Dad, and Ethan had been getting ready. "No need to shout, Mum."

She flinched at the sound of my quiet voice and spun around with one hand clutched over her heart. "Merlin, Harry! I've told you not to do that!" she admonished.

"I didn't mean to startle you," I lied innocently. Really, if anyone ever paid any attention to me, it wouldn't be so bloody easy to sneak up on them. Not that I was bitter about it. Or, at least, I tried not to be. It really wasn't anyone's fault that Ethan's personality tended to grab and absorb everyone's attention. He was just extremely high energy. And high drama. And short attention span. And low patience. And being the famous Boy-Who-Lived didn't help anything.

Really, I wouldn't have switched places with him for anything. I loved being able to blend into the background. Ethan usually got whatever he wanted because he was just that good at looking pathetic and begging shamelessly. I usually got whatever I wanted because no one was looking when I took it. Being invisible could be seriously fun. Of course, every now and then, it might have been nice if either of my parents – dangerous auror and brilliant Unspeakable – were aware of the fact that I'd been in the room with them for half an hour.

Mum just gave me a look that clearly said she didn't believe me for a moment, but didn't have time to argue with me just then before she picked up the floo powder and ushered Dad through first. I smirked once they'd all stopped looking at me. I got that look pretty often. I only remembered twice that she'd actually remembered to punish me for anything if she didn't do it immediately.

Ethan went through the floo next, and then it was my turn. I stumbled slightly on exiting – I really was getting better at that – and quickly stepped back into a shadowy corner far enough from Ethan that I was out of the focus that was immediately and automatically on him whenever he stepped foot outside the manor. Mum came through the fireplace next, and Ethan did the smiles and shaking hands bit that seemed to be mandatory – another reason that I was glad he had the famous scar and not me.

What followed was a typical whirlwind trip through the busy Alley. Ethan, as always, was instantly drawing every eye to himself, which made it even easier for me to blend into the background. My favorite part about these family shopping trips that we usually took a few times a year? Mum and Dad were so busy managing the crowds and watching Ethan lest someone try to assassinate him that they could never be bothered to pay much attention to what they were buying or exactly how much it was costing them. It was beyond easy to slip a few extra items onto the counter in each store, then slide them into my pockets while the rest was shrunken down to be taken home. A lot of my best stuff was acquired that way, including the cloak with the expanded pockets that I was wearing.

When we got to Flourish and Blotts, I ditched the family as soon as we got into the store and slipped immediately into the stacks, scanning the labels above the shelves as I mentally organized my list. I got most of my books by owl order – that's where I spent most of my allowance – but I could mostly only get books that I knew I wanted in that way. Actually being at the bookstore, I was able to browse the shelves to find books that I didn't even know about.

Merlin, I couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts. Some of the stories that Mum had told me about the library there… It kept me up at night, just thinking about it. And I'd heard that Ravenclaw Tower had their own private library. And quiet study rooms surrounded by other people who appreciated a good book… Really, I was as excited as Ethan was. I was just a lot better at handling that excitement.

As expected, Ethan was soon bored and clamoring to move on. I was pleased to find that I'd timed it just right so that I could add my books to the purchases waiting to be tallied. Dad was playing bodyguard, standing behind Ethan with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his wand while Ethan chatted with some witch who looked just out of Hogwarts. It looked like he'd already signed an autograph for her. Mum was strategically positioned to control how many people were able to approach her famous son.

I smiled just a little as my extra purchases were tallied, and slipped them into my cloak pockets while Dad was sparing a bit of attention to sign the check. Ethan was really in his element when he was surrounded by fans. I had to admit that he made a really good Savior.

Eventually, we made it out of the bookstore. By the time half our shopping was done, it was lunch. We went to Monique's to eat. It was drastically overpriced and I'd honestly have rather had a sandwich and chips than quail kabobs, but the real benefit of eating in places like this was that the other patrons were usually refined enough to avoid mobbing us for autographs, and there was always security available to keep out… Well, anyone without expensive robes and deep pockets, really.

After lunch, we made a slow trek back through the Alley to continue our shopping. There really was a good reason that we only ventured out like this a couple of times a year. By the time we got home, even Ethan would be too tired for much more than a sedate evening.

Ethan was almost literally vibrating with excitement when we finally came to Ollivander's. It was so bad that I think it was actually soaking into me through our twin bond. I was having much more difficulty than usual keeping myself still and quiet. Even so, I saw Ollivander's eyes come to rest on me almost as often as Ethan. It was a strange and uncomfortable phenomenon, being acknowledged by a perfect stranger when Ethan was in the same room. I didn't much care for it, I found.

Ethan went first, obviously. It probably would have taken an entire team of aurors to squeeze any more patience out of my brother today. It took quite a while to find his wand. At one point, the old man seemed to get excited about one wand, but it didn't respond to him at all. Eventually, Ethan was paired with a holly and unicorn hair, 12 ½ inches, which was evidently slightly swishy and good for defense. It emitted a shower of yellow and light green sparks when Ethan touched it.

I closed my book and slipped it into my pocket while I stood from the corner in which I'd settled a good half hour ago. I smiled and congratulated my elated brother before stepping forward and praying that it didn't take as long to find my own wand.

"Well, let's just see…" the old man muttered after I failed to get a response from the first two wands. "Holly and phoenix feather," he said as he presented me with the wand and I was pretty sure it was the same that he's expected to respond to Ethan.

The instant that it touched my hand, it took my breath away. Dark purple and orange sparks cascaded from the tip of the wand while heat ignited in my chest and coursed through my body in a way that I had never felt before. I found myself grinning, which was an expression that I very rarely ever adopted.

"Curious. Very curious," Ollivander's muttering cut through my elation.

"What's curious, sir?" Ethan questioned even as he clapped me on the back in congratulation.

Ollivander stared at me for a long moment, his expression troubled. "I remember every wand I've ever sold," he said at last. "Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is very curious indeed, Mr. Potter, that your brother should be destined for that wand when _its_ brother… Why its brother gave you that scar."

I looked at the wand in my hand. I was sure that everyone else was doing the same, though I couldn't spare enough attention to check. I swallowed. There had to be a mistake. That's all I could think. This couldn't be right.

"N-no," I heard Ethan object, the horror that he was feeling even stronger than what burned in my own heart. I felt like… a traitor somehow, even though I knew that this couldn't be my fault. I hadn't done anything to warrant this. I hadn't. "That can't be right," Ethan protested for me while I continued to stare mutely at the wand that felt so right in my hand. It seemed like it was mocking me by continuing to hum pleasantly against my fingers.

"I'm afraid it is, Mr. Potter," the old bastard said gravely.

"Mr. Ollivander," Dad finally stepped forward and I prayed that he was going to fix this. "Ethan tried dozens of wands. Harry only tried three. Surely you can let him try some more. I don't doubt that he can find a better fit," he said tightly but with confidence.

"Mr. Potter," Ollivander frowned. "I'm afraid the wand chooses the wizard and this wand has chosen."

"Well, we don't accept that!" Dad snapped, and I could hear that he was getting really angry now. "My son is a good boy, and he deserves better! I won't have any connection to Voldemort in my house, much less my son's possession!" And with that, he snatched the wand out of my hand and thrust it at the old wandmaker.

An involuntary sound of distress was ripped from my throat as the wonderful feeling I'd only just discovered was torn away from me.

I bit it off as quickly as I could and stared very hard at the floor as I willed traitorous tears to remain at bay. At least until I was locked away in my secret room at home.

"Come on, Ethan. Harry. We're going home."

I didn't dare speak a word until we were all back in the manor. "Does this mean that I can't go to Hogwarts?" I finally voiced. I was sure I'd never heard my own voice sound so small and frail.

"You have to go!" Ethan crowed immediately, turning on Mum and Dad with his most stubborn glare. "Harry has to go to Hogwarts! He's my brother! He has to go! You can't make him stay just because…! Well, you can't!" he insisted.

"Oh, no, Honey," Mum sighed. "Don't worry, Harry _is _going to Hogwarts. I promise. Your father's going to talk to Professor Dumbledore about this… wand issue. I'm sure he'll know what to do. If nothing else, Harry, we'll go to Gregorovitch for your wand. Don't worry."

I swallowed around the sob that was trying to get out, willed my eyes to hold onto the tears that were leaking into them, and managed to get out, "I'm tired." I wanted to walk calmly out of the room, but I was sure I wouldn't last that long. I ended up running all the way up to my room. I avoided the bed. I knew Ethan would find me there, and I couldn't let him see me cry. Instead, I ran into my closet, all the way to the back, and slipped through the small house-elf door, which was really little more than a crawl space. I'd wondered, when I was younger, why creatures that could apparate needed such passages, so I'd done some research and found that, apparently, back in pre-Hogwarts times, family manors had had wards so strong that even family house-elves couldn't apparate inside them.

I didn't much care about that anymore. For me, it just meant that the old manor was riddled with a maze of hidden passages that everyone had forgotten even existed.

I made my way up to one of the tiny attic rooms that I'd long ago claimed as my own. I liked it here. I liked my collection of possessions that my parents wouldn't approve of. I even liked the constant presence of the dust, because that meant that even the house-elves didn't come in here. It was mine and mine alone. I came here to read a lot, when I really just didn't want to deal with anyone. Today, I just curled my arms around my knees and let myself cry.

I'd only held that stupid wand for like a minute. It shouldn't have been a big deal to lose it when I'd never really had it to begin with. But it _hurt_. Like there was a hole in my chest, and no matter how much I breathed, I just couldn't get it to fill up again. I'd never in my life felt really _whole _like I had when I'd first touched that wand. And now it was gone and I didn't think I'd ever be whole again.

Even worse, I was seriously wondering if there wasn't something wrong with me that I'd be chosen by the brother wand of Voldemort's wand. And I knew that I _shouldn't _miss that wand, because it was an evil wand. Voldemort had tried to kill us. I didn't want to be like him. I didn't want to hurt innocent people!

I wanted my wand back, and I hated it for being a brother to Voldemort's wand. I hated myself for wanting what I knew that I shouldn't. I felt like I'd betrayed Ethan and my parents. I felt like continuing to want that wand was a continued betrayal.

But I couldn't make myself stop.

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><p><strong>AN**: Okay, that ended on a rather sad note. Harry's first year is going to be somewhat angsty (hopefully not extremely so), but things will begin to look up in his life as he makes friends and learns that it isn't a bad thing to be himself.

_**Stay tuned!** In the next chapter, the twins go to Hogwarts, and Harry gets sorted!_


	2. An Obstinate Hat

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter, characters, universe, franchise, etc. I am not J. K. Rowling. I don't make any money from this. No copyright or trademark infringement intended.

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><p><strong>My Brother, the Hero<strong>

**.:2:.**

**An Obstinate Hat**

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><p><strong>1 September 1991 – Sorting<strong>

I struggled to tune out Ethan and Ron's loud game of exploding snap and concentrate on my book. The gentle rocking of the train car was distracting enough without their loud voices and the occasional explosion. I could have looked for another compartment, but it hadn't seemed worth the effort. As long as I remained near Ethan, he easily stole all the attention away from me, allowing me to remain relatively inconspicuous even on the train. As soon as I was away from him, however, I had to deal with people trying to figure out if I _was_ him. After the third time I'd had to bare my forehead to prove that I _wasn't _the famous Boy-Who-Lived, I'd decided that staying near Ethan was the best thing I could do until we had different color ties to differentiate us.

I didn't doubt for a moment that he'd be a Gryffindor. He really did fit the criteria perfectly. I believed with the same conviction that I would be a Ravenclaw. I loved Ethan, but I was really looking forward to getting a little distance from him. And being in different houses, maybe I could even make a friend or two of my own. Someone interested in books and learning.

I cringed slightly as an explosion was accompanied by excited yells from both of those sharing the compartment with me.

_A quiet friend_, I mentally amended.

I realized then that my hand was in my pocket, gripping my wand again and I hastily let it go. I'd just gotten it back today. When Dad had talked to Dumbledore about it, the headmaster had apparently told him that there was nothing evil about the wand or me. He said that that particular wand choosing me could mean any number of things, and that it would be best if I claimed the wand that had chosen me.

Mum and Dad had argued about it when they had thought I was in my room. Dad wanted to trust Dumbledore. Mum thought it would be better to get a different wand from Gregorovitch, just to be safe. In the end, Dad had won on the grounds that Dumbledore had never steered them wrong before. Personally, I found it odd that neither of my parents seemed to consider Dumbledore even a little bit at fault for Ethan and me almost getting killed by Voldemort in '81. Sure, they'd chosen the wrong Secret-Keeper, but the Fidelius and hiding out in Godric's Hollow had been Dumbledore's idea. When Voldemort had targeted us, Mum had wanted to leave the country and Dad had wanted to trust the ancient wards around the manor. I'd overheard that argument a few years ago, though I still didn't know what had instigated it.

Dad had gone back to Ollivander's to get my wand, but they hadn't actually given it back to me until today. I'd asked about it only once. I mean, if there really was nothing wrong with it, then why didn't I get to have it like Ethan got to have his wand already – with strict orders not to use it, of course. Dad had just said something about Mum's orders, and I hadn't dared bring it up to her after the argument I'd heard, so I'd waited impatiently until today – at last. I still wasn't sure if it was wrong of me to be so attached to this wand that Mum didn't seem to trust and Dad was apparently trusting only grudgingly, but I couldn't help it. I was getting a little sick of constantly questioning myself, so I was pretty much just deciding to believe the best and go with it for now.

The compartment door opened and Neville stepped inside, eyeing Ron and Ethan warily. He'd been with us in the beginning, but he'd left a while ago to search for his familiar. He and Ethan had never been the greatest of friends since Neville was just too quiet to really mesh well with Ethan, but since our parents were friends, we'd pretty much known him all our lives. He and I hadn't ever been that close either. Though we did pretty well together since we were both quiet, Neville wasn't much interested in studying as a hobby, so we'd never had that much to talk about.

Ron was another life-time friend, though he and Ethan had always gotten along very well. Personally, I couldn't stand him. Half the time, he seemed ready to worship my brother, and the other half, he was jealous of him. Mostly, Ron seemed to take out his frustrations on me. Or, rather he tried to. We were seven the last time he'd managed to prank me, and I maintain that that was a fluke, as I was ill that day.

"Find Trevor?" Ethan asked absently after sparing just a glance up from his game.

"Um, yeah," Neville said quietly, lifting the toad as evidence. "Hermione helped me," he glanced over his shoulder and I followed his gaze to…

My eyes widened slightly as I took in the bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl all but bouncing on her toes. "Hermione?" I asked politely, since I knew that Ethan had already stopped paying attention to both of the new arrivals.

"Oh, Hermione Granger," Neville smiled as he turned to introduce her, stepping aside so that she could come inside.

Her eyes widened when she saw me, "Oh, wow! Are you Ethan Potter?! I've read all about you, of course. You're in…"

"He's Ethan," I sighed, pointing to the messy black head on the bench across from me. Then I turned my attention back to my book and did my best to tune out the annoying muggleborn. Once Ethan realized that she was a fan, he became much more interested in her existence.

Neville sat down next to me while Hermione sat on his other side to chat with Ethan. Neville didn't try to talk to me, which was one of my favorite things about him. I was glad that he was providing me with a buffer from the overly inquisitive, hyperactive girl.

Even Ethan was getting annoyed with her within five minutes, I noticed with some amusement. Ethan generally had a preternatural patience whenever it came to his fans, so watching it thin was quite the treat.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before the announcement came that we were soon to arrive at Hogsmeade and Granger left to get changed. Ron had to change into his robes, but the rest of us were already dressed in ours since we'd come to the station by Floo. The Weasleys, I knew, had a hard time affording enough Floo Powder for family trips that way and often found other ways to get around. I felt a bit bad for them, but not too much. If they weren't so proud, they'd be doing much better. I knew, after all, that Mum and Dad had offered to help them out before and they'd declined as though they didn't need it when they clearly did.

Ethan and I had been forbidden to broach the subject with them ever since Ethan had offered the buy the entire family new brooms so that we could play a "decent game of Quidditch". I didn't really get it, but then I'd never been poor, so maybe I was missing something.

I sat next to Neville, across from Ethan and Ron on the boat over to the school. Ethan and I had been here plenty of times before, of course. Mum and Dad didn't trust St. Mungo's much with Ethan, and I was easily mistaken for him, so we usually came to Hogwarts to see Poppy for health checkups or if we got hurt. Over the summer, we visited sometimes, and sometimes McGonagall or Poppy would watch us for a little while. I'd never had a chance to get into the library though. And we usually apparated to the gate or floo'd into the headmaster's office, so we didn't get much of a view of the castle, especially at night over the lake. It _was _pretty impressive.

Eventually, we arrived at the castle, and Professor McGonagall ushered us through into the anteroom by the side entrance of the Great Hall. The muggleborns just about scared the life out of me when they started screaming. I blinked at the ghosts and then shook my head at the excitable muggleborns. Honestly, they were just ghosts. We had a few at the manor, though they mostly kept to themselves.

"Haven't you ever seen a ghost before?" I asked Granger, who was still gaping at them.

"Of course not!" was her indignant response.

I shook my head slowly. "You never even saw _one_?"

"No," she said, and now she was looking insulted and haughty. "Muggles don't leave ghosts behind when they die, so of course I haven't seen any, having grown up in a muggle area…"

"Yes, thank you, Miss Know-It-All," I snapped at her. "I am perfectly aware that muggles don't leave ghosts."

McGonagall returned before our argument could escalate – probably a good thing – and I clamped my mouth shut, unwilling to get my first detention before I was even sorted. I didn't doubt that Professor McGonagall would give me one either.

Granger was glaring at me as we entered the Great Hall, but she quickly seemed to forget our fight as her attention was drawn to the ceiling. I rolled my eyes, but resisted the urge to say anything snide when she started quoting _Hogwarts: A History_ about the enchantment on the ceiling. Honestly, every single wizard-raised student knew about that enchantment. We didn't need to listen to her jabbering on about it as though she was educating us.

I had nothing against muggleborns – truly, I didn't – but I honestly would have thought they'd at least be smart enough to realize that reading a few books didn't mean that they knew more about our world than the people who grew up in it.

Well, excluding Ron, who seemed to put a real effort into never learning anything, even by accident.

I couldn't help but find Granger's unearned arrogance particularly insulting.

Thankfully, the Sorting Hat started singing then, distracting me from glaring at Granger, who seemed too awed by everything in the room to have realized it yet.

I breathed a sigh of relief and smirked triumphantly at Ron when Granger was sent to his future house instead of mine. I really don't want to know what would have happened had Granger and I ended up in the same house. I was usually more polite than Ethan, but I wasn't nearly as nice.

Neville went into Gryffindor, and I silently wished him all the best as he took off the Hat and headed for his new table with pride. He was a bit timid for that house, I thought. Lions could sense weakness, after all, and they tended to prey on the weak – at least, that was my impression from what I knew of my Gryffindor parents and their friends. He'd have probably been a lot happier in Hufflepuff, but maybe he'd surprise me. I figured Gryffindor would either crush him or toughen him up. Well, it wasn't really my concern.

"Potter, Ethan!" McGonagall finally called and I felt Ethan's excitement spike as he strode confidently toward the stool, casting a warm smile out toward all of the whispering students staring eagerly at him. He gave them a small wave and slipped the Hat onto his head.

I heard a quiet snort from the head table and glanced up to see Severus Snape trying to burn a hole in the back of Ethan's head with his eyes alone. I'd never officially met Mum's old school friend, though I knew that he was head of Slytherin house now, and a very well-renowned potions master. Mum had mostly cut ties with him, but she still wrote to him every now and then, and Dad and Sirius and Remus didn't dare to tell any of their stories about him when she was around. I thought that Snape was an excellent example of the bloodthirsty side of the lions. Some of the things Dad and the others had apparently done to him in school were disturbing to my mind. Ethan seemed to get a kick out of hearing about how they'd tormented the "evil Slytherin". I found it unlikely that Dumbledore would have employed the man if he was "evil".

I wondered how much of a problem Snape was going to be for me, being James Potter's son. Doubtless, the man still hated my father, and by the way he was looking at Ethan, I suspected that he was more than ready to include us in the feud.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat had taken about ten or fifteen seconds to announce Ethan's house. He gave me a grin and a wink as he slipped off the Hat, then pumped both of his fists in the air like he'd just won a dueling match as he jogged down to meet the cheers and rising chorus of "Potter, Potter!" that was coming from the house of lions.

I just shook my head amusedly and thanked Merlin again that I wasn't going to that particular house.

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall shouted when the noise had begun to diminish.

The whispers rose again. Annoyingly, they now seemed to revolve mostly around exclamations of shock at the fact that there was "another Potter".

With a resigned sigh, I stepped out into the spotlight that I so strived to avoid and seated myself on the stool, doing my best to ignore the fact that several hundred people were staring intently at me. It was a relief when the Hat had settled over my eyes, blocking them out.

"_Ah, Harry Potter_," I heard a small voice say in my mind and I did my best to avoid outwardly flinching. "_My, my, you could not possibly be much further removed from the personality of your twin_."

"_Are you supposed to be stating the obvious?_" I queried, slightly snarky. Despite being the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, I _really _wasn't used to being stared at. Actually, probably _because _my brother was the Boy-Who-Lived. With him there, no one even noticed me, much less stared. Being on display was having a very negative effect on my usually polite personality.

The Hat merely chuckled at me, however. "_Quite right. Let us get right to it then. I see that you are planning to be an Eagle. Hm…_"

"'_Hm'? What is 'hm' supposed to mean?"_ I snapped, an itch of unease unfurling down my spine.

"_Well, you certainly have an impressive mind, Mr. Potter. Goodness, yes. I see that you take great enjoyment in learning_."

"_Yes, which is why I am an obvious Ravenclaw_," I replied tensely. "_Surely you're not attempting to suggest that I belong in Hufflepuff. I am quite loyal to my family, but I have no great need for gathering friends. And I generally prefer to avoid hard work when possible_."

"_Unless the work gives you something that you desire_."

"_But even then, I don't do more than absolutely necessary. Honestly, I tend toward the lazy side_," I refuted. Learning was the only thing about which I was almost never lazy – mostly because I enjoyed it, so it didn't feel like a chore. It had been _years _since I'd questioned the fact that I belonged in Ravenclaw. For so long, it had been a fact in my mind that I would be an Eagle at Hogwarts. I couldn't understand why the stupid Hat was arguing with me.

"_True, Mr. Potter. I don't believe you'd fit into Hufflepuff, at all_."

"_Well, surely you're not suggesting Gryffindor_," I said uneasily after a momentary pause. "_I really don't think I have anything in common with the lions._"

"_I actually see an impressive potential for courage here_."

"_Be that as it may, surely you acknowledge the fact that courage and nobility are not the only prominent traits of the lions. I would be miserable there_."

"_Agreed_."

I paused a moment, but the Hat said nothing more. "_So, put me in Ravenclaw, already_," I protested.

"_Ah, but you seem to have forgotten an entire house, Mr. Potter_."

I felt all the blood drain from my face and I swayed slightly on the stool. "_Please tell me that this is some kind of sadistic jest,_" I literally begged. The Hat had been made by Godric Gryffindor, after all. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it enjoyed pranking.

"_No jest, Mr. Potter_," it said seriously. "_You would be reasonably happy in Ravenclaw, I will admit, but I believe you would stagnate there. Learning is easy for you. It comes naturally. You thrive on challenge, and that is something with which you have had little enough experience in your life thus far. Slytherin will challenge you…"_

"_Slytherin would destroy me!_" I said desperately. "_My brother is the Boy-Who-Lived, I _can't_ be a Slytherin! Do you realize what everyone would think of me? I would be… I'd _never_ be trusted again!_"

There was a pause before the Hat spoke again, its voice in my mind almost apologetic. "_I was created to put students into the house in which they would most thrive. I can make only one choice for you." _And then, before I could try to argue further, it shouted for the entire hall to hear.

"SLYTHERIN!"

I swallowed hard and forced my face to blank as I slowly removed the Hat from my head. The hall was silent as I rose from the stool. Everyone was still staring at me. As I'd expected, they were all looking at me as though the Hat had just announced that I was to enter Dark Lord Training rather than merely sorting me into the house from which the Dark Lord had come.

There was a chance that Dad would be able to convince Dumbledore to re-sort me. Even if he did though, I didn't think that anyone would ever forget that I had been put in Slytherin first. Of course, if he _didn't _get me re-sorted, then I was going to have to live with the Slytherins for the next seven years. It would be very bad if I said or did anything to make them think that I was as horrified at being sorted among them as I actually was. I didn't _really _think that Slytherins were evil, like I half-suspected that Dad and Uncle Sirius actually did. Mum didn't think there was anything wrong with Slytherins on principle. She'd been friends with Snape, and she had a few friends among the Unspeakables now who'd been in Slytherin house.

No, I didn't think they were evil. Certainly, this wasn't as bad as my wand…

Oh, Merlin. My wand. My wand was brother to Voldemort's wand and now I'd been sorted into the same house as Voldemort. I couldn't even begin to figure out what to think about that, but I had an idea of what other people were going to think of it.

I numbly handed the hat back to McGonagall as my eyes rose and locked with the emerald green eyes at the end of the Gryffindor table. They were wide and… betrayed. That's what I was feeling through our twin bond, and I was pretty sure that it was half the reason that I presently felt like I might be sick.

I forced myself to look away from Ethan and walk toward the Slytherin table.

Slytherin. I was a Slytherin. Oh, Gods…

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><p><strong>2 September 1991 – Snakes<strong>

My housemates were extremely wary of me at first. They looked at me like I didn't belong. Like I was an outsider, a spy invading their sanctum sanctorum. I honestly wasn't sure if they were right or not, so I didn't hold it against them.

As expected, Mum and Dad met with Dumbledore the first day of term. I got to join them with Ethan in the headmaster's office after dinner. Ethan seemed to be as confused as I was, but he was handling it in his typically loud fashion, which translated to a lot of hurt and anger aimed at me and everyone else. Mum was split between comforting me and consoling Ethan, who was throwing an almighty fit. Dad seemed to be having trouble meeting my eyes. He was throwing plenty of anger at Dumbledore and the world in general, but I could see that his faith in me had been severely shaken. I didn't really blame him. My faith in myself had been shaken as well. First with the wand, and then this…

I knew that I wasn't evil. Sure, I had some impolite thoughts now and then, but I was pretty sure that everyone did. I'd almost never acted on thoughts like that, so I didn't think there was anything wrong with that. And yes, sometimes I got angry and wanted to hurt someone, but I didn't _do _it. Well, I _usually _didn't do it. I never hurt anyone seriously and I hadn't been caught at it since I was four. Some people deserved it. Like Ron. Surely that didn't make me _evil, _did it? But, then I really didn't know what evil people were like when they were children. Maybe Voldemort had been just like me once.

In the end, Dumbledore assured them that there was nothing "wrong" with me being in Slytherin house, and that I might actually be able to do a lot of good there by helping children whose parents may not want what was best for them. Dad couldn't seem to get passed the fact that I had the traits of a Slytherin. Mum was standing up for the idea that there wasn't anything wrong with Slytherins in general, but I could see by the way her eyes tightened when she looked at me and the trembling in the hand rubbing my back that she had her doubts.

Ethan… He seemed utterly lost, unable to decide between supporting his brother and condemning the evil Slytherin, and the mixed messages coming from Mum and Dad probably weren't helping him any.

Through the whole meeting, Snape – my head of house – stood in the corner, being invisible simply by being still and silent, just like I usually did. His loathing for my dad was palpable every time his black eyes fell on him. When his eyes were turned on me, they were very neutral. Deliberately neutral. But I figured that was as much as I could hope for, given the circumstances. At least he wasn't glaring at me as well.

My eyes returned to my head of house often throughout the meeting. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who remembered that he was even there most of the time. Snape wasn't evil, I reassured myself. He was as Slytherin as they come to be the head of the house and he wasn't a bad person, so that was proof that being sorted there didn't make me evil. Of course, that was going by Mum and Dumbledore's opinion of the man, and not Dad's.

Sometimes, I realized, it really did matter a lot more what people thought than what was really true.

When the meeting concluded, it had been decided that I would remain in Slytherin and come directly to Dumbledore or Snape if anyone gave me any trouble. I dutifully lied that I would do that, received a hug from Mum, an awkward pat on the shoulder from Dad, and a frown from Ethan, then accompanied Professor Snape down toward the dungeons.

Before going into the common room, Snape stopped me and stared at me gravely for a long moment. "Potter, I meant what I said this morning," he said firmly, referring to his little "welcome to Slytherin" speech he'd given before breakfast when he'd handed out everyone's time tables. "Slytherins don't always get along, but we don't parade our problems before the school either. If you have any difficulties, I trust that you will bring them to me first," he said forcefully.

"Of course, sir," I nodded.

His eyes narrowed. "You'll want to improve your occlumency drastically before you attempt to lie to me again, Potter," he snapped harshly.

I tensed under his fiery stare and gave him a much more genuine nod. "I'll remember that, sir," I said quietly. "And I will come to you with any in-house problems before I go to any other adult for help," I qualified. I didn't really _do _going to adults for help. I was used to handling things myself because Mum and Dad didn't usually have the time.

He continued to glare at me, but with slightly less anger now. Finally, he just turned and stormed away.

I took a silent, steadying breath once he was gone and made sure my hands weren't trembling before speaking the password and letting myself into the common room. I got a lot of looks as I moved through the room, but I was far too exhausted to deal with any of them tonight. I made directly for the first year dorm. My bed – by luck or clairvoyance – was in the darkest corner of the room. Each of the six spacious, canopied beds were flanked by a luxurious wardrobe and an elegant marble-top desk with our personal trunks settled at the foot of the bed.

I toed off my shoes and quickly closed myself behind the curtains of my bed. I sprawled across the soft surface and stared blankly at the green cloth above me. Green. It should have been blue. I should have been in Ravenclaw Tower, not beneath the lake.

I sighed and firmly told myself that I would not cry. I wasn't even close to private enough to think about letting myself cry. Babies cried. Girls cried. Not big boys. Not men. Dad had beat that into mine and Ethan's heads for as long as I could remember. I'd mastered it first. Not that anyone had noticed.

_No_, I told myself firmly. I wasn't going to do that. It wasn't Ethan's fault. It wasn't Mum and Dad's fault. Things just happened. If I was going to start blaming people, there was more than enough blame to go around. Mum and Dad and Ethan and Sirius and Remus and Peter and Dumbledore and Voldemort and even myself could all be blamed for pretty much everything that bothered me about my life, and there just wasn't any point to getting into that.

I was a Slytherin now, officially. I was just going to have to deal with it and adapt to it just as I had everything else in my life. I didn't know about the Sorting Hat's assertion that I thrived on challenge, but I was sure that I could deal with it.

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><p><strong>FYI<strong>: Hermione will not be "bashed" in this story. I will try to keep her as true to canon as possible while shaping her around the events of this AU, but that doesn't mean that Harry has to _like_ her. If you are a fan of Hermione, you can relax. She'll get her due. If you are _not _a fan of Hermione, you can relax. Harry won't ignore her most annoying traits. There, now everybody is happy. And if you're not then do me a favor and **fake** **it. ** *Grins unrepentently*

_**Stay tuned!**__ In the next chapter, the first Potions class!_


	3. The Potions Master

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, characters, universe, franchise, etc. I am not J. K. Rowling. I don't make any money from this. No copyright or trademark infringement intended.

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><p><strong>My Brother, the Hero<strong>

**.:3:.**

**The Potions Master**

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><p><strong>6 September 1991 – Potions<strong>

I barely spoke a word to any of my housemates – even my dorm mates – all that first week. They stared at me a lot when they thought I wasn't looking. I promised myself that they'd get used to me soon enough and things would calm down. I was pretty sure I wasn't lying to myself.

I managed to avoid a lot of the scrutiny by just avoiding the snake den. The library was everything I'd ever dreamed it could be, and I found it quite easy to lose myself amongst the stacks for hours on end. I didn't miss any classes due to the omnipresent lure of that wondrous room, but I did miss curfew twice in the first five days. Luckily, my talent for being invisible worked nearly as well in dark, silent corridors as it did in a crowd, and I managed to avoid getting caught out after hours either time.

I was nervous Friday morning though. My first Potions class was that morning, and not only was it taught by my head of house – who may or may not strongly dislike me – but it was also my only class that Ethan would be in.

I was so nervous about the class that I ended up getting there more than ten minutes early. I eyed the empty seats and debated briefly before choosing a seat at the station just in front of Snape's desk. It was closest to the ingredients cupboard and would hopefully be furthest from the idiots who wanted to mess about instead of paying attention.

While I waited for everyone else to show up, I reverted to more comfortable ground and pulled out my class book to study. I'd read and learned all of this long before classes even started, but it wouldn't hurt to peruse the most relevant material once more immediately before I'd need to use it. My memory was _not _eidetic, despite what Ethan liked to accuse me of. It was good – very good when I applied myself to remembering something – but I _did _forget things if I didn't use the knowledge or revise occasionally, and I had been known to miss things every now and then. I actually suspected that Ethan's memory was as good as mine when he chose to apply it. He _did_ have the ability to quote a large selection of Quidditch stats on command.

Having already been through the material previously, it didn't take me long to get through it again, paying careful attention to the technical details and skimming over the editorial portions. I didn't even realize that the room had begun to fill with my classmates until there was a cool, "Excuse me," from next to me.

I looked up from my book slowly and my eyes settled on slightly narrowed mercurial orbs. I was decently familiar with the Malfoy heir. He'd faced off against Ethan in the Alley a few times, but I wasn't sure that he'd ever so much as noticed that I was there on those occasions. I just lifted my brow and waited politely for him to say what he wanted to say.

He frowned at me with an expression that was one part suspicion and one part confusion, then glanced at the stool next to me and visibly withheld a sigh. "Is that seat taken?" he asked with such haughty self-possession that I couldn't help but smirk.

"Not at all. Have a seat, Malfoy."

He eyed me suspiciously, as though it might be a trick despite it having been his idea, then swept gracefully into the seat, managing to keep his nose elevated the entire time. I resisted the urge to snicker at him as I took a moment to examine the occupancy of the room.

Ethan was sitting in the far rear corner directly opposite me and as far from the professor's desk as possible. Given the way Snape seemed to regard my brother, I thought that was a wise choice. Ron was stuck to his hip like always, the other two Gryffindor boys – muggleborns maybe, because I didn't recognize their surnames – were stuck gleefully to his other side. Neville was sitting in front of them, next to that annoying know-it-all muggleborn, Granger. I had no idea how he was able to stand her. The Gryffindor Patil was seated next to Granger, deep in some conversation with the Brown girl. I couldn't remember her given name, but I had seen her once or twice in the Alley. Her family wasn't of much note, but they did own a shop on the Alley. I'd been lucky enough to only be into it once with Mum, but that was enough to know that it wasn't a place for anyone of the male gender.

The pair sitting on the other side of the stool Malfoy had just claimed were Crabbe and Goyle. The table behind us was filled out by Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, and Pansy Parkinson, and behind them were Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Lilian Moon with the last seat empty. Most of my Slytherin yearmates, I knew by reputation only, and the little bit I'd observed of them over the last week. Nott, Bulstrode, and Parkinson were all from traditionally "dark" families. According to Dad, all three had members that had been Death Eaters or suspected Death Eaters, as did Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, of course. Davis was the only other halfblood, but her surname had been among the suspected Death Eaters as well, and there had also been some suspicion about her muggleborn mother's death that Dad thought was suspicious but couldn't be proven. Considering how warmly she seemed to be received by the dark purebloods, they didn't seem to hold her blood status against her. And finally, there were Zabini, Greengrass, and Moon, all three historically neutral families.

I was, obviously, the only Slytherin in my year from a historically "light" family. The other Slytherins seemed terribly conflicted between judging me for my family, and acknowledging that I was a Slytherin and therefore different from my family. Honestly, I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to be now either. I'd mostly decided that I was going to try hard to just act like myself and see how that worked out.

My thoughts were abruptly shattered by the loud bang of the door as Snape made his entrance. All eyes were on him as he came to a stop at the front of the room and let his dark gaze sweep over each of us. I noticed that his eyes lingered on Ethan and on me though I couldn't define the direction of his thoughts from his blank face.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," he began directly, his deep voice quiet and compelling, and I knew that I wasn't the only person in the room hanging on his every word. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death." He paused, gazing around at the complete attention he held, then added in a wry drawl, "If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Malfoy smirked smugly, clearly convinced that he wasn't included in that group of dunderheads. He looked smug enough, in fact, that he might have been considering himself on a level with the professor already.

I made an effort to avoid rolling my eyes. I wondered how Malfoy would react if I were to explain to him just how much like Ethan he was. He'd probably faint from severe indignation.

"Potter!"

I flinched slightly as my eyes snapped back up to the professor, only to relax when I saw that his glare was focused on Ethan.

"What would I be brewing if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape barked at Ethan, his confrontational tone now a startling contrast to that which had accompanied his speech.

I looked back toward my brother and almost rolled my eyes when I saw his face pinking, a combination of embarrassment and indignant anger burning in his emerald eyes. Honestly, I was a little bit embarrassed for my brother. The Draught of Living Death was mentioned in the introduction of our potions text.

Granger's hand shot into the air and she was almost dancing in her seat with her enthusiasm to answer the question. I couldn't resist the urge to roll my eyes this time. I swear, that girl was like a walking advertisement for pureblood superiority, and I did not generally consider myself prejudiced or intolerant.

"Tut, tut," Snape sneered at Ethan, ignoring Granger completely, which I found amusing, "fame clearly isn't everything." Then his eyes swung around to me. "Perhaps the other Potter?"

My brow rose in surprise, but I hesitated only a fraction of a second before answering. I wasn't ecstatic about being used to make Ethan look stupid but I wasn't about to make myself and my house look bad while angering my head of house just to avoid illustrating the fact that Ethan really couldn't be bothered to read his course books. "The Draught of Living Death, sir," I said as neutrally as possible.

"Ah, it seems that one of them can read," Snape said with an almost convincing display of surprise as he turned disdainful eyes on Ethan again. "Let's try again. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Granger seemed to be trying to loosen her joints in order to get her hand higher into the air without actually lifting her bum off her chair.

The majority of the Slytherins in the room were now shaking with poorly suppressed hilarity. I was doing everything in my power to avoid letting the amusement soak into me as well. It really wasn't nice what Snape was doing to Ethan, but it _was _funny. And it was the first time in my life that anyone had ever pointed out some way in which I was better than Ethan – and with witnesses, no less!

"I don't know, _sir_," Ethan practically growled, his face now terribly red between his embarrassment and anger. He'd never been treated like this before. I did feel a little bit bad for him, but I also kind of thought it might be good for him to have someone point out that he wasn't perfect and that being famous by itself wasn't enough to get by in the world forever.

Snape pursed his lips with a drawn out, "Hmmmm." Then he turned to look at me and lifted his brow, clearly inviting me to answer.

This had also been in the introduction. "The stomach of a goat, sir."

"And it's purpose?" he almost purred.

"It can cure most poisons, Professor," I answered as neutrally as possible while I was surrounded by gleeful snickers and trying to ignore Ethan's betrayed glare, "It's also an ingredient in most antidotes."

Snape's smirk looked slightly smug for a moment before it turned diabolical again as he returned his attention to Ethan. "Why don't we try once more? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

And now Granger was no longer able to keep her bum attached to her seat and was actually standing and waving her hand in the air. As though these questions were even _difficult_.

"I don't know," Ethan said defiantly. "I think Hermione does though. Why don't you try her?"

A few Gryffindors gave surprised laughs at that – none very loudly – and some of the Slytherins glared.

I sneered at Hermione before I could stop myself. Really, that girl just annoyed the crap out of me.

Snape's face went stony as he glared at Ethan for a moment before turning his glare on Granger. He spoke only one word to her, "Sit," and she went down faster than a well-trained hound.

I lifted a hand quickly to cover my smile because that was just too funny. Malfoy clearly wasn't deceived as he sent a conspiratorial smile in my direction. When I lifted my eyes to Snape again, he looked vaguely amused, and he was also clearly waiting for me to answer the question Ethan hadn't. "There is no difference, sir," I almost sighed, "Monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same plant, also called aconite."

"Very good," Snape congratulated. "Twenty points to Slytherin, Potter." He then turned toward Ethan. "And you… Twenty points from Gryffindor for your cheek and general incompetence, Potter." Then he looked at Granger and lifted an eyebrow. "Miss Granger, as you were so eager to answer a question, this one is just for you."

She sat up very straight and practically vibrated in her eagerness to prove herself.

"What flowering plant, used in the Befuddlement and Confounding potions is also a common additive of most simple healing salves?"

Granger opened her mouth immediately, then frowned, blushed, and closed it again. "I… I don't know, sir."

I was grinning before I could stop myself and I was now officially a fan of Severus Snape. The question was utterly simple to anyone who had been raised in the wizarding world. It was so commonly used, mum had a crop growing in her herb garden every year – as did Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Longbottom and even Mr. Lovegood. Snape had chosen the question specifically to point out something the girl was unlikely to have come across in her preparatory reading.

"No," Snape asked innocently. "Miss Davis?"

"Sneezewort, sir," Tracey Davis answered sweetly.

"Very good, Miss Davis. Five points to Slytherin," Snape said indulgently, even while his body language dismissed Granger's very existence. "Now, today you will be brewing a simple boil cure."

After that, the lesson got underway without much to-do. Malfoy and I were actually able to work decently together. We were both familiar with the recipe and had no difficulty putting it together. At least, we didn't for the first twenty minutes. Then…

"Potter, _stop_!" he suddenly snapped at me.

"What?" I demanded irritably, but I did stop lest the potion blow up in my face for some reason I had failed to divine. Malfoy was, much to my annoyance, much better at this than me. Considering the amount of reading I had done into the topic, I had no doubt that Malfoy had real experience to be so much better than me.

"You're stirring it way too fast," he said imperiously. "Haven't you ever brewed before, for Merlin's sake?"

"No, Malfoy. I have not," I bit out quietly.

"What?" he blinked at me in perfect surprise. "Your parents never gave you any lessons? At all?"

I worked to keep my glare from turning bitter as I stared at the potion instead of looking at Malfoy, as he demonstrated the proper speed for stirring.

"Hmn," he said after a moment, regaining his arrogant poise. "I would have thought the precious Golden Boy would have been tutored before Hogwarts," he murmured with a brief glance back toward Ethan – who was stirring much as Malfoy was demonstrating.

"Okay, I get it," I snapped, snatching the stirring rod back and mimicking the pace Malfoy had used. The unfortunate fact was that Ethan had gotten lessons last year. The master who was hired to give the lessons would only teach one person at a time. Then he'd gotten called away for an emergency before I could get my lessons and they'd never been rescheduled. I'd asked once and mum had promised to set something up. As it had never happened, I assumed she'd forgotten and I hadn't bothered to ask again.

Malfoy huffed imperiously and turned back to preparing the ingredients. "Sheesh, Potter. I hadn't taken you for one incapable of handling constructive criticism."

I hesitated a moment, but I wasn't eager to alienate my dorm-mates regardless of their family reputation. "The criticism was appreciated," I corrected as politely as I could when I was still horribly annoyed and embarrassed.

Malfoy looked at me funny, but at least he shut up about my family – for the moment. I rather doubted I'd heard the last of that.

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><p><strong>AN**: If you're enjoying, remember to tell me or I don't know! ;-P A big THANK YOU to those who have reviewed!


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